


whatever happens, i know it'll work out (for us)

by kuryuri



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 09:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13972071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuryuri/pseuds/kuryuri
Summary: "encouraged by the foolish, lingering traces, I still sing"(drabbles, on love and its variations)





	whatever happens, i know it'll work out (for us)

**Author's Note:**

> i used the prompts very v e r y liberally lmao ill put up the link to the prompts list soon jhsdkjs  
> (can u even call these drabbles,,if ,, theyre all different lengths,,,,idk but i am)  
> happy white day guys hope yall enjoy these little not-really-drabbles+ have a great day
> 
> title and summary quotes taken from gray and blue by kenshi yonezu

_ Cheiloproclitic \- Being attracted to someones lips. _

Okay. Not to be dramatic or anything, but Tomoya honestly feels like dying. It’s roughly 6 in the morning, which is _way_ too early for anything, honestly, and being exposed to Hajime’s sunny smile and angelic voice  _this_ early is. Too much, for his poor, suffering heart. The soft boy’s excited chitter about the practice they’re headed to is only a whisper in the quiet peace of a winter morning, and Tomoya knows he should be listening. He should, because he’s not as good at dancing, or singing, and he really does need to improve before Nii-chan graduates, but Hajime’s cheeks and lips are tinted a really really pretty pink in the cold and he just wants to reach out and touch them and feel them against his own-

 

No. That’s creepy, don’t be creepy with your own best friend, please. He sighs, and gives himself a mental shake. He can do this. He really can, he just needs maybe, a cup of coffee or something, to wake up. To stop staring at Hajime’s lips as they move, disappearing and reappearing above the folds of his scarf, elegantly forming and shaping his words, the gentle voice that filters through sounding like mellow wind chimes tinkling in the summer.

 

“Tomoya-kun?”

 

He’s shocked out of his (very, _very_ gay, wow) reverie to find Hajime peeking up at him from under his long long lashes, a concerned slant to his perfect eyebrows.

 

“Is everything okay? You’ve been silent for a while… If you’re bored listening to me, I can stop!” The undercurrent of hurt in his tone is perceptible, and Tomoya hurriedly reassures him that, no, it’s not because you’re boring, why would you ever think that, I’m sorry, it’s not you I just haven’t been getting enough sleep lately, which of course prompts Hajime to worry over his well-being instead, interrogating Tomoya about his sleeping habits and the like.

 

They continue in a similar fashion, back-and-forth worrying about each other’s health and stress and studies, all the way until they reach their practice room and shed their outerwear. Their little studio is quickly filled with ringing laughter as Mitsuru pounces on the both of them the moment they drop the last of their winter gear, dragging a weakly protesting Nii-chan in to the circle and squishing them all together in a warm group hug.

 

 _This.. isn’t so bad, maybe,_ Tomoya thinks, as he sneaks a glance at Hajime next to him, laughing without a care, one arm snug around Tomoya’s waist.

 

_ Petrichor \- The smell of dry rain on the ground. _

With every breath he takes, he feels his chest get a little lighter, his shoulders a little less stiff, his mood get a little brighter. Yuuta looks over to where the rest of his classmates are fussing with the picnic mat; Hime-kun shrieking as Mitsuru chases him with a frog Shinobu found, and the dubiously more responsible of their classmates trying to find a nice, sunny spot to lay their mat. It’s good to see them more lively, now that finals are over and they can finally relax, knowing they have no commitments whatsoever. He takes a deep breath of the lingering smell of rain that’s still prominent in the air, and slowly bends over to take a seat on the soft grass, basking in the warm spring sunlight.

 

Cold hands suddenly find their home on his stomach, and he lets out a shocked yelp, trying and failing to squirm away from the unpleasant sensation. Behind him, a familiar voice snickers and mercilessly digs the tips of his freezing fingers into Yuuta’s sides. Yuuta, face a whole splash of pink, sucks up his pride and wheezes out his surrender, if only to get Shinobu to stop. They both sit there giggling like little kids as Yuuta catches his breath; he can feel Shinobu shifting into a more comfortable position, legs on either side of Yuuta, cool hands pressed on top of Yuuta’s uniform, above his stomach. Shinobu hesitantly places a quick kiss on the side of Yuuta’s cheek before shyly burying his face into his shoulder. It’s horribly sweet, and Yuuta can _feel_ the cavities, but he grins at his dork of a boyfriend and and closes his eyes and leans a little more into him.

 

He must have dozed off or something, because he vaguely registers the nice rumble of Shinobu talking reverberating through his torso, and the next things he knows Tsukasa is flopping over both him and Shinobu. He sleepily curls his arms around Tsukasa’s hips, and leans up to meet his other boyfriend’s soft lips in a gentle kiss, before snuggling into his cushion-y stomach and relaxing. As he nods off again, he feels two different hands running through his hair, curling and smoothing out tangles.

 

He falls asleep with a small grin etched on his face.

 

(Later, he wakes to chuckling and frantic shushing. He only finds the will to get up when he hears the camera shutter go off, chasing down a cackling Sora who waves his camera wildly in the air, still displaying the photo of the three boys cuddled together, fast asleep.)

 

_ Tarantism  \- The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. _

"Maa-kun."

A soft poke.

"Hey, Maa-kun."

Bleary eyes slowly blink open, glazed over with the remnants of his nap. His gaze wanders lazily before settling on the boy sitting on the table in front of him. Ritsu watches Mao take his time waking up, fondly running his hand through Mao's long bangs, smiling when he finally seems to realize where they are and what they had been doing before his nap. He sits up a little straighter, but makes no move to shift Ritsu's hand off his head.

"Sorry I fell asleep Ri-" a small yawn cuts him off and leaves him looking sleepier than before. "Ah, are the cookies ready?"

Ritsu's hand stills on the top of Mao's head, fingers still threaded through the soft locks. He tilts his head towards the counter, where the cookies are sitting on a stand to cool. A timer ticks away underneath the stand. The music player next to it skips to the next song; the gentle sound of piano keys paired with a violin melody fill the room. Mao's lips pull into a guilty pout.

Ritsu doesn't want to hear another apology, so he slides off the tabletop and lightly tugs on Mao's hand to get him to stand. The moment he's steady on his feet, he grabs hold of Mao's other hand and pulls him close. His partner smoothly falls into ballroom dance form with him, and together they slowly sway with the music. There's not much space to move, in their cramped kitchen filled with trinkets and knick-knacks accumulated over the years, but they make it work- they mind the hem of their pajama bottoms, and keep their elbows in close. Mao's forehead rests perfectly against Ritsu's shoulder, and Ritsu himself buries the side of his face in Mao's hair.

It's not perfect; despite their efforts, they still knock into the various things scattered around their kitchen, but amidst the smell of fresh cookies and the soothing classical music (which often accompanied their rather frequent late night baking adventures), they wouldn't trade this for the world.

 

_ Duende  \- Unusual power to attract or charm. _

Small. Pretty. Fragile. Still, he has the ability to bring Kuro to his knees in seconds if he wanted to; all he needed to do was say the word. He's felt it since their first meeting, up on the roof terrace. His soft voice floated away with the wind, capturing both Kuro's breath and his heart in one go. He doesn't think Nazuna's realized it yet, the sheer amount of power he holds over Kuro- over everyone else as well. Kuro's not dumb; he sees the side glances Hakaze gives him when he passes, the _very much soft_ spot Sena has for his club president, the admiring looks coming from all directions when he walks down the first and second years' hallways. His talents, his responsibilities, his appearance, _him_ . The school loves him, and he's basically got them all wrapped around his little finger, but the pure boy doesn't _realize_ it. Kuro doesn't think he even has anyone he's interested in within the school.

Which, in essence, means that Kuro has no chance whatsoever. Winning an SS rank Dreamfes against all the other units combined would be easier than genuinely catching Nazuna's eye and fighting off the rest of the school population with his bare fists.

Damn it all. He'll stick to making small bento boxes for Nazuna to munch on in between lessons.

 

_ Ayurnamat \- The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed. _

"Are you sure you're okay with this, Taichou...?"

He's not. He's never been less okay with anything in his life, but-

"Of course I am! If this is what Kanata wants, then I'll support him with all my might!" He turns and sends his signature blinding grin to his darling underclassman. Tetora, uncertain, glances back and forth between his unit leader and Kanata in the distance, seated at the fountainside with Hakaze's hand in his. Chiaki sees his eyes carefully study the softly murmured exchange between the two; can already hear the words that are going to tumble out of his mouth, so he tones down his smile and softly shakes his head. Tora's nose scrunches in a slight frown.

"Hakaze confessed first. I.. was too late. Too cowardly." He hears Tetora suck in a breath and take a small step towards him, so he plows on. "Th-there wasn't any chance for me in the first place, you know? They've always spent a lot of time together, it's only in our third year that they're in different classes, and- and I can't change anything now that they're already together, so-"

He's cut off by an ugly bubble of a sob that rises from his throat. He claps a hand over his mouth to stop it, but it's futile- he's already opened the floodgates. Chiaki doubles over slowly, chest hitching with every shuddering sob and each wet cough, clutching his mouth and his chest. The sleeves of his uniform are quickly stained from his tears and snot, yet they don't stop coming. He knows Tetora bends down next to him, rubbing his back in soothing circles that he can't feel. _Poor Tetora,_ he thinks. _He doesn't deserve to deal with this, his unit leader should be strong and fearless and optimistic, yet here I am, crying on the floor over an unrequited crush. How pathetic._

The look of pure concern and care on Tora's face nearly sends him back into another bout of crying, but he manages to hold it together. Well enough that he makes it back (with Tora's help) to their practice studio with enough time to spare for him to clean up. Enough time to hide his red eyes, clear his blocked nose, before Kanata comes gliding in with a hesitant Hakaze in hand.

 

("Eh? Chiaki, why're your eyes so "red"?"

"Hahaha, nothing to worry about, Ryusei Blue! The sight of Takamine's eggplant-filled lunchbox was enough to send me into a fit!"

"Ehehe~ I see! Well, everyone, I have "someone" here to introduce, and a happy "announcement" for us all~!")

 

_ Sphallolalia  \- Flirtatious talk that leads no where. _

The back of his neck starts to prickle. A feeling in his gut tells him to _run,_ but foolishly, he does neither. Instead, Keito chooses to stay seated where he is; because he likes the way the sunlight makes the garden terrace seem softer than usual, and he likes the gentle aroma of fluffy pastries and soothing teas that accompany him as he works on his council duties.

Until, of course, a lithe body slides into the seat across from him and grabs one of his pens. Keito now understands why his survival instincts kicked in even with no apparent danger. He says nothing- Hibiki transforms it into a single red rose with a dramatic flourish. Keito doesn't even blink.

"Why."

Undeterred, Hibiki pulls off a single petal and reaches for Keito's hand. He doesn't pull away, but the corners of his mouth squeeze a little tighter.

"Why, you ask?" The petal is placed in Keito's palm. Hibiki closes his hands around Keito's, making a fist, and brings it to his mouth before gently, sensually, blowing cool air onto his knuckles. Keito's cheeks heat up a little, but he stubbornly holds on to the slight frown on display. "Darling, there's no reason at all! I do what I like," Wataru laughs, before dropping his voice low, “and what I like now, is you.”

Sparks run up Keito’s spine, and he snatches his hand away. Unclenching his fist reveals that the petal, somehow, turned into a Hershey's kiss. Reaching over, Wataru plucks it out of his palm, unwraps it, and pops it into his mouth. Keito is... stunned, a little bit impressed, but a _lot_  flustered, and he feels his face getting warmer and warmer. His cheeks are definitely red, damn it, he hopes the imbecile doesn’t notice.

He does.

“Oh my, oh my!” he exclaims, leaping up and reaching over the table to grab at Keito’s cheeks. “Darling, how precious~! I didn’t know it would affect you this well!”

Keito irritatedly smacks his hands away and clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“If you’re done bothering me, I have work I’d like to complete.”

“But babe, you complete _me_!”

Insufferable. Absolutely, definitely, one hundred fucking percent....

Keito lets the heaviest, most annoyed sigh through his teeth, looking up at Wataru through his bangs.

The fool just stares innocently back at him. Mouth tilted in the most infuriating little grin, head in his hands, looking at Keito with the most irritating, loving look.

Keito… considers himself a strong man, but this is. Way too much to deal with, considering he’s not even getting paid for any of it. With a click of his teeth, he caps his pen and opens his mouth to battle.

**Author's Note:**

> i might continue this ,,, if,, i remember,,, goodnigh,t


End file.
